elena gilbert (gutsily) wrote in marinanova, @ 2014-10-13 12:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | bonnie bennett, damon salvatore, elena gilbert, kitty pryde (aoa), martha jones, pavel chekov (au), sam winchester, spencer reid, zatanna zatara |
day 293 | video / action
action;
[ One moment, she has her grip firmly around Bonnie and Caroline both, a tight embrace of nerves and relief and raw emotion, eyes wide in disbelief and voice cracking in a gasp of her friend's name, and the next? The next she's standing in a dome under the sea, with dress changed for an orange jumpsuit that screams nothing short of prison and then the announcement starts and as she listens, all she can do is dig her nails painfully into the flesh of a palm still stained with blood (hers, or Tessa's, she can't really remember), in some attempt at stability.
Everything the voice speaks is true; how many crimes had she become guilty of? In an existence that had long become a single, waking funeral, how many deaths did she cause? But she knew that, she knew and she accepted this as part of her very being and this? This was wrong and it made her angry. Angry, to have a best friend that was dead be ripped from her grip like this again, angry that she had no choice. Angry that this was nothing short of what someone horrible would deserve, too.
She breathes in, collects herself with eyes fluttering shut and chin rising high. A spine painfully straight, she listens to the noises around her and -
- and goes absolutely rigid when she hears much less than she thinks she should. It's like the hearing she has become so starkly attuned to had been pressed to mute and her mind is reeling all over again as she pivots on the back of her heel and walks, walks hell knows where with a distant stare. Stops again, sets her jaw. No, she's faced worse things than this. She's survived worse things, and just like with everything else, she'll survive this; and she'll figure out how the hell to get back to her home. With some semblance of resolve returned, and with a step far more certain than she felt, she begins to walk through the dome. ]
video;
[ she turns the device to video, focuses the screen to herself. her smile is brief, and hesitant, but it's there, worn as a habitual shield she's taught herself to hold. because she isn't sure how she should be responding to this situation. to being in prison. ] Bonnie? Are you here?
- Or, well. Anyone from Mystic Falls? [ loathe as she is to admit it, any one of them could be here in account of whatever crimes this place knew about. she saw bonnie's name in the contacts, and in light of her best friend's recent ... resurrection, it's the first thing she must ask. a strand of hair tucked behind her ear. and there's a set to her jaw that hints at her growing frustration, unease.. ]
So - what do they want us to do, exactly? Spend our time contemplating all the bad things we could've done? [ no way was she elaborating any of her crimes; a glance tossed sideways, as she looks on from a little perch she's found to sit on, in the hideous orange jumpsuit she found herself in. ] Or community service - or what? [ seemed pretty laughable, t b h. she works at her bottom lip, and there's a passing frown along her nose as she pushes out a sigh. ] I guess I just want to know more about this place. Help a girl out?
Thanks - [ another small press of her lips, a single dimple in her cheek that's strained at best, before the feed cuts short. ]